


semantics

by dimplesum



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, One-sided pining, Other, aight anyways since i'll have no problems w tagging on here unlike /tumblr/ smh LOL, cursing, damn i haven't posted here in so long LAKJDKALDKFDA, idk AHAHAHAHA, oh yeah i did tag this as gen but there are swear words, there's a time skip in here too, um is there a tag for that on here????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimplesum/pseuds/dimplesum
Summary: Working at Sakanoshita, you would never think that you would fall for a red-haired boy obsessed with meat buns, but here you are nonetheless.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Reader, MSBY Black Jackals & Reader, Miya Osamu & Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	semantics

The first time you meet Hinata Shouyou, he’s begging your boss for a meat bun. You’re sitting behind the counter, watching this whole fiasco go down. This situation seems like an after-school drama, and you indulge yourself by taking a sip of your bottle of Calpico in amusement. Drowning in the summer heat, you’re just completely burnt out. When he turns his back briefly, you catch a flash of the white characters inscribed on the back of his jacket —  _ Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club. _

Being a first year, you’re not all that familiar with your classmates or year as a whole. It’s the awkward transition that every first-year student experiences, whether they like it or not. All you know are the faces of your classmates, blobs of color in the back of your mind when you envision them without seeing them and frenzied brushstrokes of color when they appear in front of you. Their names always show up ever so slowly, rolling off your tongue in thick sounds that sound like a pianist pressing the damper pedal for far too long and blurring the music into indistinguishable melodies.

While Ukai continues to argue with the boy, you discreetly turn the fan toward your way, feeling the cool breeze sweep across your skin. Ukai is certainly not a bad boss at all. He gives you free meals (“Remember to eat actual meals,” he reminds you whenever you take some Cup Noodles off the counter. “I’m not going to be blamed for your growth deficiency”), and he doesn’t mind you changing channels on the radio to listen to pop songs instead of rock songs. The worst part of this job is that Ukai hogs the fan, and he’ll never admit to doing so.

Your amusement at this situation all goes down the drain when the boy turns to you to say, “Tell the old man that I’m a growing boy and need meat buns as a part of my supplementary diet.”

“Oi, don’t bring them into this conversation. It’s not part of their job to deal with you, Hinata,” Ukai interrupts, narrowing his eyes. “You’re supposed to be studying for the final exams with Yachi.”

_ Another person’s name. _ You’re starting to realize the futility of remembering names, especially when you stick to Class 4, not bothering to go out of your way to interact with students from other classes. It’s the first-year dilemma that everyone goes through, not representative of the high school dramas that you catch on television. The strangest thing about this world is that it’s so small and so big at the same time.

“Yachi says I’ve been improving,” Hinata harrumphs, crossing his arms in indignance. There’s something so expressive about the way he moves and interacts with Ukai, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to his face, so bright with energy. It’s the kind of energy that hums through the air and lets everyone that he’s here. “I think I could use a break.”

“I need a break,” Ukai mutters under his breath, combing his fingers into his hair. He gives you a look. “I’m going out to buy some cigarettes, but make sure that he doesn’t get his gremlin hands on anything in the store, okay?”

It’s his way of saying that he doesn’t want to deal with Hinata anymore, and his words about not wanting to involve his employee with Hinata ring untrue. It means you have to  _ talk _ to someone — someone who goes to the same school as you. You’re still adjusting, despite it being the first semester, but you want to try to steer clear of any drama or anything like that. As you nod, he takes no time to leave the building, adding a little bounce to his step. The small chime of bells follows him when he leaves, the door shuddering from closing. Hinata’s hazel eyes meet yours as a grin spreads across his face. 

“Could I —”

“I don’t feel like getting fired,” you drawl, shooting him a look. “If anything, you should go eat a home-cooked meal like the boss said.”

“I’m too lazy, though. Every time I cook, I burn something, and Natsu gets super annoyed at me for not waiting for Mom,” he mumbles, thinking deeply to himself as he mourns his lack of culinary skills. He walks through the aisles, letting the ceiling lights flicker on his face in amber crackles. His head suddenly turns to you with excitement glittering in his eyes. “Coach never said that  _ you _ couldn’t touch things for me.”

You flash him a confused look, pressing your forearms into the counter. “I’m not following.”

“Don’t you remember what he said? ‘Make sure that he doesn’t get his hands on anything in the store,’ right?”

“I believe it was ‘gremlin hands,’” you correct humorously. 

“Semantics,” he says in a devil-may-care manner, shaking his head slightly at you. His energy seems to make everything around you  _ brighter, _ glistening in his sunshine warmth. “It’s fine, and you can always say that he threatened you.”

“You don’t look threatening,” you state.

His cheeks puff out, looking just like one of those pastry puffs that you see in a bakery’s display case. Normally, if you see someone wearing this childish expression, you would avoid them at all costs, but Hinata’s different. There’s something ever so adorable with the way they redden like cherries, flush and ripe for picking. Suddenly, you aren’t thinking about that mathematics exam of yours that’s tomorrow.

“I am threatening,” he declares haughtily. “I’m the kind of threatening that you won’t see until it’s too late. That’s what all my opponents say.”

“Some of my classmates also do volleyball,” you muse aloud. “If I recall correctly, they’re Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.”

“Yeah, they’re on my team. Yamaguchi’s pretty wicked with that serve of his, and Tsukishima’s really good at blocking.”

You have absolutely no clue what he’s saying, only being able to gather that Yamaguchi can hit balls and Tsukishima can stop balls  _ (out of context, it sounds rather odd). _ From what you’ve heard from your classmates, Karasuno’s boys’ volleyball team has been doing well, training for tournaments. It’s quite exciting enough to have quite a few first years in the line-up, something that doesn’t usually happen. 

With his animated actions and sound effects, Hinata is able to turn volleyball into something  _ exciting _ with his words. He engages your mind, illustrating exactly what he means through movements. It’s like this whole area beyond the counter is his stage. He is the actor, walking you through reality from a different perspective. 

“Maybe I should stop by after your practice to visit your team,” you ponder, making him flush a bit.

“We’re really not that good yet,” he stammers, suddenly shy. “I’m just fast.”

“Just fast?” you prod, grinning at his discomfort.

This conversation is far too fun for you, letting you indulge in talking to this boy of smiles and sunshine. You’re bathing in this light, an escape from your part-time predicament. Normally, Ukai would scold you for not looking out for any other customers, but the shop is pretty quiet after rush hour when no one’s scrambling for frozen dinner or dessert. 

Hinata’s phone suddenly vibrates, and a notification flashes on his screen —  _ a text. _ The melodic flow of the conversation quickly ebbs away into nothingness. You gaze outside to glimpse the sun inching down into the horizon.  _ There goes the light of your day. _ A smile stretches across his features, just as if he has sensed your discontentment with the situation.

“I have to go make dinner for my younger sister and mom, but it’d be really nice if you could stop by the gym a few hours after school ends,” he says, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You can give me some meat buns then.”

“You really do want those meat buns, don’t you?” you laugh.

He grins sheepishly. “Meat buns are my favorite food, and I’ve eaten them since I was a kid whenever my mom came home late from work.”

As soon as Hinata leaves, the shop grows quiet. It’s so strange how fast you’ve gotten used to his constant chatter, and he doesn’t come here all that frequently during your shifts. You lean back into your chair, hating the way your heart feels so empty and barren from the lack of conversation. Letting the fan blow across your face in a light manner, you slip out your homework, hoping that your luck will win out since you’re using a pen and don’t have a pencil.

Your only companion is your pen scratching into your assignments, and you pass time by listening to crickets chirp outside. Even if your mouth aches slightly from talking a little more than usual, you don’t dislike it. There’s something comforting about running it off, letting words spill from your lips like a broken dam. The familiar steps of your boss make your head rise from your paper, and you try to hide the drool that has formed on your homework. You know that Ukai doesn’t really care about that kind of stuff, always taking amusement in the fact that you’re suffering from a heavy homework load (“I graduated a  _ long _ time ago,” he always tells you with a  _ please-wipe-this-off-from-my-face _ smirk on his face). For the sake of appearances, you would rather maintain your dignity.

“The kid left?” Ukai asks, his voice slightly rough from smoking cigarettes. He makes a point of not smoking it around you, pointing out that students like you shouldn’t inhale secondhand smoke at this early of a stage, something that you appreciate about him. “Damn, I was about to give him some steamed buns for arguing with me for thirty minutes straight.”

“You were gone for an hour; I don’t think anyone would wait that long,” you observe. He makes a face at your comment, but he doesn’t say anything in response. “Say, how many people are on the boys’ volleyball team at Karasuno?”

“Twelve,” he recalls. It slowly comes to him as to why you’re asking him this. He fixes a steady-eyed gaze at you, raising his eyebrows. “If you’re thinking about getting twelve meat buns for free, as your boss, I’m going to stop you because the store’s going to lose money because of that.”

“I won’t ask for meals for two weeks,” you negotiate.

“Fine,” Ukai relents with a sigh. “Those boys better appreciate you for your sacrifice.”

He knows just as much as you do that you live off of instant food. Home-cooked meals are always good to eat, but you always find yourself short on time, needing to study and do other extracurriculars for school. That’s where instant meals come into play. It’s not like he can stop you, especially since all you do is study and work. You’ve seen how he treats the volleyball team he coaches, always telling them off for passing by the store just for meat buns and instant-cooked meals. In a way, he’s a very kind person, caring for the youth like this. 

It’s only when you arrive at the volleyball club gym after school is when you realize that  _ fuck, _ you have no clue what time their practice ends.  _ Stupid, _ you berate yourself for not even asking Hinata for any specifics. Normally, you’d be annoyed with your lack of knowledge, but you decide that the wait is all worth it to see him. He has left a mark on you in such a short period of time, and his smile has occupied your mind throughout class. He isn’t in any of Karasuno’s college preparatory classes, or otherwise, you would have noticed him. You don’t want to face your classmates — who might as well be strangers to you — and ask them about the sunny-haired boy. You settle yourself on the grass and start on your homework, appreciating the lack of morning dew on the blades.

Ukai has given you a thermal bag to keep all the meat buns in, and they press against your thighs, warm with an enticing aroma. There’s something completely serene about being outside in the sun, letting the air hug you in its warmth as you do your homework. You’re about done with completing your homework when you hear a familiar voice call your name.

“What are you doing here?” Tsukishima asks, his tone matter-of-fact but curious. His glasses are in his pocket while he drizzles water onto his face. It’s apparent that he’s on a break, and you hear rustling come from the gym. “I didn’t peg you as the type to enjoy doing homework outside.”

You’re relieved that you know someone outside of Hinata in the volleyball team because it would be awkward for you to converse with anyone else, especially the upperclassmen. There’s something about upperclassmen that make you recoil and want to run back home. They all know each other so well, having this closeness that puts you into awe. Shortly after Tsukishima speaks, Yamaguchi shows up by his side, shooting you a smile as he tosses him a snack to eat.

“I’m waiting for someone,” you reply, finally finishing up the rest of your homework. “When does your practice end?”

“It’s ending now,” Yamaguchi informs you, quickly glancing at his watch. “Who is it?”

“Hinata. The one who —”

“Him?” Tsukishima raises his eyebrows, caught off-guard. “Why would you want to wait for him?”

You get the feeling that not everyone is a fan of the boy’s sunny personality, and Tsukishima has always been the type who dislikes wasting energy on trivial things, so you don’t take it seriously.

“I got meat buns for the team,” you say, collecting your materials and putting them in your backpack. You rise up to grab the thermo bag to show them. “Hinata was asking for them yesterday, and Ukai wasn’t letting him have it.”

“He’s obsessed with those meat buns,” Tsukishima notes with a groan, shaking his head. He slips out a towel from his pocket to wipe his face and puts on his glasses. “That’s probably why he’s so short for a volleyball player.”

“You want to say that again?” Another voice comes into the conversation. Hinata stands at the doorway, glaring at Tsukishima. “I might be short, but I can jump. I’m a good decoy, too.”

Internally, you smile at the way he acts because you can see how much passion he carries through every movement, word, and action. His words contradict what he said to you yesterday, which makes you smile at how humble he had been. Watching him approach Tsukishima and Yamaguchi down the stairs, you know that he hasn’t noticed you. Mischief plays in your mind as you pick up your bags and move out of his sight. Yamaguchi flashes you a confused look  _ (Tsukishima doesn’t seem to care at all), _ and you shake your head, letting a smirk dance across your lips. 

Carefully, you creep behind Hinata and whisper in his ear, blowing in it slightly,  _ “Boo.” _

“Kageyama, if that was you, I’m going to —” Hinata stops short when his eyes meet yours. His slight show of temper dissipates in an instant. “You did come!”

“Hi,” is all you’re able to muster up, noticing how his team members peer curiously at you from inside the gym.

Their attention is overwhelming, and more heat fans across your face. This just makes you want to shrivel up from how much attention they’re showering with. You’re lucky that Hinata’s presence makes it all evaporate when you look at him. 

“You really didn’t have to come, but I’m super glad that you came anyway because the volleyball team is the coolest part about school,” Hinata says. He tugs you by the wrist, and you’re surprised that he hasn’t even zoned in on the thermo bag in your hand. It’s good to know that he didn’t pay attention to you just for the sake of meat buns. “I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“Careful, simpleton,” Tsukshima drawls. “Don’t overwhelm them right off the bat. I don’t know anyone who still retains so much energy even  _ after _ practice.” He turns to you, giving you a look. “Just tell him that you have meat buns, and he’ll —”

“Meat buns?” Hinata’s eyes widen drastically. “You coming was already a dream, but you bringing meat buns?  _ You’re the meat bun god.” _

Before you can say anything, he’s shouting at everyone in the gym (“Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, get your asses back in here, so you can eat!”), and to be honest, it warms you to the heart to see how his teammates glow with excitement as their eyes dart toward you and back at each other. You’re almost embarrassed at how your heart stutters a bit at his reaction.

While everyone starts eating their meat buns, Ukai approaches you, sending you an amused gaze. “You know, if you like someone, you don’t have to use food to get them to notice you.”

You blink at him slowly before his comment truly sinks into your mind. “I’m — I —”

All your words are coming out in incoherent sentences, and you’re not sure if you’re able to make your point clear that you  _ don’t _ like Hinata in that way. Ukai pats you on the shoulder, smiling crookedly. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ukai says with a light chuckle. “You’re good for the boy. He doesn’t really have close friends outside the volleyball team as extroverted as he is.”

Your breath hitches at his implication. Of course, your brain immediately denies any possibility that you like Hinata because  _ you’ve just known him for a day. _ While you spiral into a  _ what the hell _ rabbit hole of thoughts, you don’t notice Ukai walking away to talk to the club advisor. You’re just concerned with your own world as you bite into your meat bun to escape your mind’s confines.

There’s something about meat buns that ground you, and it’s almost indescribable what they do to you. In your hands, you hold the delicacy, feeling the heat eat into your fingers. It’s round and soft between your hands, flawlessly made. As you take a bite out of it, you taste the sauce first, leaking through the entirety of your mouth with a savory taste that makes your whole stomach grumble for more. You relish in the divine flavor of the meat bun, so simply made yet delicious. It’s so easy to tear into the bun with your teeth, cutting through the threads easily. The pork is tender, easily ripped apart by your teeth. Every time you chew, juices flood your mouth with the same heat and taste, and it makes your mouth water at how good it is. 

“Tanaka stole mine,” Hinata bemoans as he trudges toward you, looking weary. It’s pretty easy to figure out who Tanaka is in the gym, your eyes landing on the boy with a shaved head who’s laughing at Hinata’s reaction. “It was for eating before the upperclassmen ate, and that was  _ so _ long ago.”

You can feel how dejected he is, his emotions rolling off him in large waves. In a way, he’s the most expressive person you’ve ever met, and everything he feels just reflects upon him. Hinata wears a small pout on his lips, wobbling with disappointment. It does seem like a joke from how his teammates are teasing him for his reaction to losing food, but you know the idea of losing something that is  _ yours _ feels, despite the very fact that it’s just food. You’d be lying if you say that his expression doesn’t have an effect on you, and you contemplate, glancing at your meat bun that has barely been eaten into. 

“We can share,” you offer, flashing him a smile. You bite into your bun, your voice getting muffled. “Let me finish this bite —”

Suddenly, Hinata’s face is far too close to you. In fact, your vision is blinded by the sight of his face. You can see the constellation of freckles sprawled across his face, something you’ve never noticed before. They twinkle under the amber gym light, and for just a brief moment, you close your eyes, only to be surprised by his actions. The pressure of the bun disappears ever so quickly between your lips, and you don’t realize what has happened until a few seconds later when you catch Hinata’s beatific smile. 

“Thank you,” he says, an impish smile gracing his face. “That tasted good.”

His expression is now filled with mischief, the kind that is up to no good  _ (“Damn, he made them fall for that stupid trick of his — the puppy eyes and everything,” someone grumbles in the background). _ Sawamura, one of the upperclassmen that Hinata has mentioned to you in the passing, is about to approach Hinata to give him a piece of his mind, but when he sees your lack of reaction and light smile, he stops, giving you an apologetic look for his underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Oi, we were supposed to share,” you berate, nudging him slightly, but you really don’t mind, seeing how he laughs at your reaction and everything.

“I’ll make it up to you with ice cream — how about that?” Hinata sings. “I got some allowance, and I know a good ice cream shop around here.”

“Go get them,” Tanaka shouts, cupping his mouth, and his voice echoes throughout the gym, bouncing off the walls.

The sudden announcement of Hinata’s feelings into the air stains your cheeks with warmth when you realize how  _ true _ Ukai’s words are.  _ You do like him. _ Of course, it is kind of stupid to try to get a guy to notice you through materialistic things. At the same time, you know it’s so much more than just food in your relationship. You glance at Hinata as the boy fumbles for things to say.

“I — I don’t like you in that way,” Hinata admits, wringing his fingers. You notice how all the team members are exiting the gym after Tanaka’s sudden intrusion into the conversation. “I just wanted to take you out for some ice cream because I’m really glad that you came and everything. Volleyball’s something I’m really excited to share about with others, too.”

Everything comes to a stop when you stare at him.  _ What the hell? _ you think to yourself. It’s not disappointment you’re feeling at all. It’s more like the kind where you’re just in  _ shock _ toward the very fact that he has just rejected you so easily. Your heart becomes hollow while you come to the realization that you’ve been starting to develop feelings for this epitome of a sun. It has been carved out by his words, falling into the abyss of your heart and splattering in an instant. 

“It’s fine,” you reply, flashing him a smile. Any other thoughts entertaining romance dies immediately as you meet his eyes. “I’m good with that.”

_ Fucking hell, what is your heart doing? _

To be honest, being Hinata’s friend is not so bad when you take it into consideration that he is a good friend. His attention to detail is something that not everyone knows about him, and in a way, for your friendship, it’s good. There’s something about his sunshine glow that makes you yearn for more of that light as time goes by.

Every time after each volleyball practice, he makes a point of stopping by Sakanoshita to buy something whenever you have a shift. The routine happens so often to the point where you just  _ know _ when he comes without needing to hear the door creak open or even see his face. Arriving toward the end of your shift, Hinata’s able to keep you and Ukai company until the store closes. For you, it’s nice to have company, especially when the shop is so quiet toward closing. He always ends up in a squabble with Ukai, bantering with his coach unflinchingly, and sometimes, you join the conversation.

Your heart is always full whenever you talk to Hinata, and all of the volleyball team members remember your name, always waving at you whenever you pass by each other in the hallway. The good thing is that your first year at Karasuno passes by with more ease as you get to know your classmates more. Your lunch times feature you sitting outside with Hinata, tossing the volleyball back and forth between the two of you. Of course, you get questions as to why you know someone outside of your classes, someone that you wouldn’t associate with normally, given your extracurriculars and academics.

“You’ve been spending more time with Hinata,” Yamaguchi says to you when you get partnered up for a project. He’s more friendly to the boy than Tsukishima, but you understand why the ash blond doesn’t necessarily get along with the red-haired boy, especially since they’re complete opposites in every way possible. “He talks about you a lot during practice.”

“Does he?” you inquire, trying to hide your interest in this topic.

“Like he has a  _ crush _ on you,” he hums teasingly. “You two look good together, you know. Lots of the other second years are starting to go out, too.”

People usually call this time of the year  _ spring fever _ because of the tendency of love birds to get together. You’re not a fan of walking around in the hallways just to bump into  _ another _ pair of classmates making out like party animals drunk and high, and you would rather shield yourself from the atrocity.

“I’m not going to try,” you mumble, pressing your face against the desk idly. “He’s too occupied with volleyball to actually figure out anything further than the concept of friends.”

“He’s thinking about going big like Kageyama,” Yamaguchi muses. “They’re doing a lot of cool combinations that are going to go big at nationals.”

“And he’s been looking up places to train at,” you say with a sigh, remembering your conversations about places to study at. All you’re doing is studying for university exams in hopes you’ll be able to land a university in the city. Your smile is weak. “I don’t want to break my heart for another person like this — falling in love only for it to leave me in a flash.”

He looks taken aback by your sudden display of emotion, but he shoots you a smile. “You just had to be stuck with a dumbass.”

“A lovable dumbass at that,” you mumble, playing idly with your pencil.

It’s by your third year where even Ukai’s a little annoyed by the way the two of you are going around, playing this little dance of  _ we don’t like each other and are too afraid to say it. _ He and the rest of the third years have stuck by you two for the longest time. After practice, Kageyama always gives you a look with his eyes staring daggers at you, trying to nudge you into saying something (“Just go say something; he always gets gooey-eyed all over you”).

One of your last shifts at Sakanoshita involves Hinata helping out with storage after you trip over nothing —  _ as usual _ — while holding a box, getting him worried (“You don’t even work here, Hinata!” “I’m going to help anyway!”). While he’s busy, you’re at the truck, standing to the side with Ukai. He shakes his head at the spectacle, giving you a look.

“If I could get it into the damn boy’s head…” Ukai mutters darkly. “You’re both third years now, and I know both of you like each other.”

“He’s more focused on volleyball. Besides, he’s traveling to Brazil to learn beach volleyball,” you remind him.

“Watch me lock you two up in the storage room for an hour or so.”

“He’ll just only eat all your food.”

“Damn that kid.”

Inside, you already know that there’s no use in confessing when you send him off at the airport. You can follow what everyone says and  _ believe _ their words, that Hinata does have an interest in you beyond friendship. With the sound of airplanes taking off whistling in your ears, He’s flying — higher than any game he has played, but simultaneously, your heart is  _ crashing, _ and that’s when you know that you have to let go of him.

.

.

.

“Onigiri Miya, come get your fresh onigiri!” you call to the crowd, cupping your mouth with a smile. 

“Did you just eat that onigiri?” Osamu asks incredulously, giving you a look.

You blink innocently, flashing him a smile. “What do you mean?”

“That’s it — I’m docking your paycheck,” he declares.

You glare at him, sticking your lower lip out. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” he challenges as he raises his eyebrows.

Despite Osamu’s sarcastic reproach, you know he won’t do it. It’s strange — the concept of working with someone that you would once consider the enemy team. In a way, it’s not unwelcome. After graduating, you started studying at a university in Tokyo, far away from your friends. Of course, you had gone to their games when you could, but you found yourself longing for more.

That was where Osamu came in. He had started up a little business, profiting from being at volleyball games with onigiri. Crashing into each other at a volleyball game, you had recognized each other, and you noticed that people were wandering off to other shops in need of a variety for their meals. You had experience with making meat buns in your university’s dormitory because there weren’t any stores with good meat buns, and you offered to help him out. From there, you became partners in business and blossomed into the good friends you are today.

As another customer approaches the stand, you set off to make some more onigiri, beating the rice with your hands to mold it into its typical triangle shape. 

Within your hearing distance, you hear someone ask, “Is that Miya Atsumu?”

Watching Osamu’s lip curl downward at the mention of his twin, you suppress a smirk as you continue patting the onigiri into shape. You’re very aware of the rivalry between the twins, no matter what they say. They are best friends, enemies, and rivals. The connection between them is so palpable, their chemistry singing in the air whenever they stand next to each other, so it’s impossible not to notice them. Between the pro volleyball player and the owner of an onigiri shop, it’s hard to say who’s more noticeable — the person in front of the television or the person in front of the crowd.

Osamu rolls his eyes. “I heard that they’re showcasing a new player at the game.”

“It’s the Adlers against the Jackals, right?” you muse to yourself. “That’s a sight to see. I never thought I would know so many professional volleyball players in my life before, but now, it’s oddly nostalgic to look at the court and see our old friends play.”

“I wouldn’t say friends,” Osamu corrects. “You have three friends on the team.”

“What do you mean? There’s Kageyama and Atsumu,” you list out.

“Hinata, too.”

The familiar name immediately makes your head turn toward him, and you can see how the ends of his lips lift at your reaction. “Sound familiar?”

“You know that he’s from the same high school as me. Of course, it’s going to be familiar to me.”

“Kageyama talks a lot when he’s drunk with Atsumu,” says Osamu. “Pretty sure he’s mentioned you  _ and _ Hinata.”

“What’s the emphasis on  _ ‘and?’” _ you ask in suspicion.

“You know, the usual  _ mutual pining _ and stuff,” he remarks with a shrug. “Never knew that you wanted to enact those teenage dramas.”

“Oh, shut up,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes. “I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“Semantics,” he says airily, reminding you of the first day you met Hinata. “All adults are children who grew up. That’s all there really is to it.”

_ Fuck, _ you should really stop thinking about him. To be honest, you’re proud of yourself for moving on from Hinata. The moment he stepped into that airplane, you remember the way your heart raced for a split second, begging you to get out your plane ticket to join him (Kageyama had given you a look that day: “Really, you didn’t use that plane ticket you bought? That’s a waste of money”). You’ve shied away from every mention of him, making sure to avoid the subject as much as possible. 

You look at the television, speakers blaring out the commentary. It’s all familiar to you — the buzzing of the crowd and the white streak of the volleyball across the court. Your eyes immediately land the red-haired man on the court as his legs press down against the ground hard, helping him reach new heights to hit the volleyball Atsumu has prepared for him.  _ It’s faster than before, _ you marvel to yourself. The way Hinata’s feet slip across the floor and everything speaks volumes about how much he has changed. Sweat is slick across his forehead, and you find yourself drawn to the whole game until an ad slaps itself across the screen.

“More people are coming,” Osamu sings lowly under his breath, watching people funnel out of the bleachers. Their conversations ring in the air, creating a lively atmosphere. “Get ready.”

“I know,” you drawl , letting your hands work on autopilot to shape the rice while checking the timer on the meat buns.

“Thank goodness, I’m first,” you hear a familiar voice say. “I’m not sure if I would be able to get the meat buns before everyone, but now, I’m going to try the meat buns that Atsumu recommended to me.”

You freeze, glancing up at the man in front of you. It’s all the same, and yet, it’s so different. As he glances at you, his mouth stretches into a smile as he calls your name.

“You work here?” Hinata laughs. “That’s so awesome! Do you make the meat —”

“We’re going to have a line soon, sir,” Osamu addresses Hinata, and the tone he takes on — you’re able to appreciate because you know it’s for your sake and sanity. “If you need more time to think, you can stand to the side.”

“I’ll have three meat buns!” Hinata is unfazed by Osamu’s frigidity.

As he waits, he glances at you. You’re done with wrapping everything in time for the rush hour of people picking up onigiri, much to your relief, but you have other things to worry about, namely Hinata. Osamu shoots you a well-meaning look, but you brush it off with a shake of your head. You won’t let this deter you at all. It’s just his arrival to Japan. That’s all.

Putting his three meat buns into separate bags, you hand it to him, only for him to lean over and press his lips against both of your cheeks. They’re warm with all his sunlight, and your eyes widen, caught off-guard by his movement. With normal cheek kisses, one would just press their lips against one cheek, but Hinata has evidently learned something new, his lips touching both of your cheeks. His eyes are creased with bliss as he looks at you, and all your thoughts go down the drain as you look at him, reminded of all your high school feelings.

“That’s called  _ dois beijos _ in Portugese — two kisses,” Hinata tells you. “It really just means hello between two friends.”

_ Friends. _ There’s that word again.

“Friends?” you repeat your thoughts. You study him critically. “Just friends? We don’t do that here in Japan, though.”

“More than that,” he reaffirms. His eyes are twinkling. “Now that I’m back in Japan, I want to take you out for drinks.”

The way he’s able to say that so straightforwardly reminds you that things have changed. You are not the same person as before, and Hinata isn’t. The two of you aren’t the awkward, clumsy people you were in high school. Before you can reply, Osamu talks.

“Stop acting like lovesick birds here,” Osamu interrupts with a scowl. He turns to you, amusement filling his features. “You can have your break now. I can take things from here.”

That day, you find yourself having a new event added to your calendar:  _ a date with Shouyou. _

**Author's Note:**

> ASLKDJFAKDSJLAK so i'm slowly cross-posting my things from tumblr, and i definitely haven't been on ao3 in a hot second, but if you ever want to check me out, talk to me on tumblr @ dimplesum! i'm much more active there than here <33 this is actually the first haikyuu!! fic that i wrote, and OMG i love meat buns so much, like i KIN hinata here AHAHAHAHAHA i hope you enjoyed >-<


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